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THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE FOURTH WATCH 

A Book of Poems 



ROY IVAN JOHNSON 




THE CORNHILL COMPANY 
BOSTON MAS». 



Copyright, 1920 
THE CORNHILL COMPANY 



JUL -2 !b20 

©CI.A570653 



To 
L. M. S. J. 



CONTENTS 

Reconstruction 3 

The Fourth Watch 5 

Thanksgiving after War 6 

The Wounds 7 

The Road of Night 8 

The Altar of Soul 9 

The Secret Door 10 

The Refuge of Dreams 12 

The Harbor of the Heart 13 

Their Gifts... 15 

Lures 17 

My Soul 18 

The Orbit of Desire 19 

Moon Tryst 20 

My Stars 21 

Dusk-winds 22 

Cloud Fantasies 24 

Dusk and Dawn 26 

A Walk in the Spring Rain 28 

A Song of the Road 29 

Romantic Youth 31 

The Memory of a Night in Youth 33 

The Moth-man 34 



CONTENTS— {Continued) 

Blight 35 

Francis Joseph 36 

The Kingly Way 38 

"Homeward Bound" 43 

Home from the City Streets 44 

Three Lights 46 

Baby Wisdom 47 

If I Were a Flower 49 

Love's Memory 52 

Dream-song 53 

The Song of the Average Man 54 

The Spirit of Music 56 

The Storm-king 57 

Sky-pictures 59 

The Conquest of the Sea 62 

Will-o'-the-wisp 66 

House-awakening 69 

A Downtown Alley 70 

The Street Car 12 

The City Cosmic 74 

Night-Lessons 78 

The Race Phantom 80 

Polyphemus 82 

Trophaea Luna 83 



THE FOURTH WATCH 



RECONSTRUCTION 

Slow dawn 

Comes on: 

Cloud-strewn 

It creeps along the east — 

Cloud-strewn, 

Or trailing hearsed hopes, 

It gropes 

Its way, 

Dull gray, 

Across an eastern dune. 

Cold dawn 

Comes on: 

Ice-hued, 

Its fingers touch the sky; 

Ice-hued, 

It chills the naked beach 

And lays its hand 

Upon the hills that stand 

Like earth's breasts round and nude. 

Gray dawn 
Comes on: 
Can Day 

Go clad in monkish gray? 
3 



THE FOURTH WATCH 

Can Day, 

That boasts a warming sun, 

Have spun 

Out of the Hght 

Of a storm-riven night 

A cloak of gray 

And dun? 

Slow, cold, and gray. 
The dawn 
Comes on: 

Earth, drugged with hope against the cold, 
Awaits the turn of the gray to gold. 
The same sun rides beyond the mist; 
Already the Hps of the east are kissed: 
The dawn 
Comes on — 
Slow .... 
Cold .... 
And gray .... 
But Dawn! 



THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE FOURTH WATCH 

The moon hangs o'er the river 
Like a silk-and-silver flame ; 

And the breathing willows quiver 
With a fear they cannot name. 

Like a steel-cold sabre lying 

Along the valley wide, 
Dropped by the red-star, flying 

In the waUs of day to hide, 

Is the sluggish, shding river 
Against the valley's breast, 

While Earth, the Mother-giver, 
Rocks the night to rest. 

No red-beamed star ascendant 
In the waiting hours of morn! 

But peace, like a shining pendant, 
Doth the throat of the Dawn adorn. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 



THANKSGIVING AFTER WAR 

Men whose strength has felt the strain of war's de- 
mands, 
Men who did the nation's work with wiUing hands, 
Men of every race, of every creed, of all the lands. 
Thank God for Peace! 

Women, you whose steadfast hearts a nation cheers, 
You who steeped your souls in prayer — but not in tears. 
You who hid with smiles of courage all your fears. 
Thank God for Peace! 

Children, you who felt the hand and heel of war. 
Children of the nations, you who will not mar 
That dawn which breaks across the world with hope- 
filled star. 

Thank God for Peace! 



THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE WOUNDS 

On France the sunlight falls again 

With healing glow, — 
But scars of Flanders seam her heart 

With hidden woe. 

From windows stream the flags of peace 

And victory, — 
But Sorrow sits beside the roads 

Of Picardy. 

A nation shouts for joy, — but oh, 

The bleeding pain 
That lies along the ruined fields 

Of fair Champagne! 



THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE ROAD OF NIGHT 

Life travels the road of night where Grief, 

Grim-cowled in gray, 
Like a ghost on the tomb of a lost belief, 

Stands in the way. 

Over the world and the soul of things. 

Prone and stark, 
Stretching its shadow-dropping wings, 

Hovers the dark. 

Dawn lifts her head from the shoulder of night: 

Sorrow is past. 
There in the path of life, a light 

Trembles at last ! 



THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE ALTAR OF SOUL 

Oh, I am the priest at the Altar of Soul I 

And the life-spun curtains drawn 
About my heart swing slowly apart 

For the birth of each new dawn. 

And brightens the fire on the Altar of Soul 

As the new light enters in, 
The fast-burning fire of worthy desire 

Consuming the fruitage of sin. 

In my heart as I stand by the Altar of Soul, 

Athrill with a vision new, 
Is enkindled a spark that shall glow in the dark 

When the curtains of life swing to. 

Yes, I am the priest at the Altar of Soul 

By life's time-old decree, — 
And the fires that I light shall keep it as bright 

As when it was given to me. 



10 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE SECRET DOOR 

All the sighs of silent strife, 

All the deepest thoughts of life, 

All the far-off goals of hope 

Toward which the spirit dared to grope, 

Fancies fair and manifold, 

And all the dreams that went untold 

Are secret-locked and set apart 

Within the chambers of the heart. 

Light of visions still unborn, 
Light of future-dawning morn, 
Things the secret soul doth own 
But dare confess to God alone, 
All the hard world never knew, 
Seeds of hope that never grew. 
Ages hence shaU flash and start 
From the ashes of the heart. 

From out the chambers of the soul — 
God's refining furnace bowl — 
Shall one day pour the store of gold 
For which the world its palm doth hold. 
And though your soul may be the first 
In which the vision splendid burst, 
It may be it began to glow 
In hearts an age or more ago. 



THE FOURTH WATCH n 

So tread the path with feet unshod 
Nor seek to sound the wells of God, 
For in an age of iron and stone 
Seeds for an age of love were sown. 
And treasure well that hidden ore 
Behind that smooth unpaneled door, 
Until, refined, the gold shall start 
From the smelting furnace of the heart. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE REFUGE OF DREAMS 

In my heart 1 heard a whisper 

Like the sigh of a star at dawn, 
Like the stir of a leaf in autumn 

When the chill of the night comes on — 
A whisper that said, "0 whither 

Have the bright- winged fancies fled 
That homed with thy soul in April 

When Beauty and Youth were wed?" 

And I answered, "The star that is paling 

Will abide in the deeps of the sky, 
And the leaf quiver downward in autumn 

In the bosom of earth to lie. 
For the star must go out at the dawning 

And the leaf must make way for the frost, 
But we know in our hearts that neither 

The star nor the leaf is lost: 

"The star will come forth in the evening; 

The leaf will return with the spring: 
And I shall discover the refuge 

Of my dreams that have taken wing, 
When the gates of the dusk are closing 

And my soul with song is rife, 
When the light of a nearer Heaven 

Has melted the snow of life." 



THE FOURTH WATCH 13 



THE HARBOR OF THE HEART 

the ships that sail from out 

The harbor of the heart 
To horizon lines of doubt 

With hope their only chart! 

Ships in search of treasure hoards 

Adventure on the main : 
Not the wealth that earth affords 

Can bring them back again. 

Ships there ai^e whose star of power 

Ascendant in the sky 
Tempts ambition, in the flower, 

A daring cruise to try. 

the thousand, thousand ships 

For honor, gold, or gain 
The heart sends out to greet the lips 

Of Fortune on the main! 

But safe within a sheltered cove 

Beside the circling shore 
Where enemy shall never rove 

Or pkate strike an oar, 



14 THE FOURTH WATCH 

Lies the bark of rarest worth, 

Cherished by the heart 
More than all the stores of earth, 

Waiting to depart, — 

Waiting till some promised star 

Shall in the sky abide, 
To sail across the harbor bar 

Outward with the tide. 

Compassless, but heaven-starred, 
The ships of love go out, — 

A hope to guide, a prayer to guard, 
A God-speed parting shout. 

Whate'er the course the love-ships take. 

To cold or torrid zone, 
Whate'er the ports the love-ships make, 

They go to seek their own. 

Ships come in and ships depart, 
But laden love-ships found 

Within the harbor of the heart 
Are always outward bound. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 15 



THEIR GIFTS 



Their lives they wrought into steel and iron ; 

Their souls in the mould they cast; 
And it ribbons the prairies of the West 

And bridges chasms vast: 
For their lives were the lives of engineers 

Who the pulse of progress feel, 
And whose spirits live in the gifts they give 

And in dreams that outlast the steel. 



I had a friend (as you have had) 

And the thoughts that my friend instilled 
In the deeps of my heart in our days of love 

Are thoughts that can never be killed; 
When forgotten his tomb and unhonored his bones 

And his name is a memory dim, 
He shall start from his grave in the love that he gave, 

For that was the essence of him. 



A poet framed his thought in words; 

And the years, on the gallery wall 
Of the Temple of Art, shall treasure the gift 

Long after the funeral pall 
Has enwrapped the clay that housed his soul; 

And his beauty-fed spirit shall Uft 



16 THE FOURTH WATCH 

An offering to Time in the thought-cups of rhyme 
And the poet shall live in his gift. 



Whether Song, or Love, or Steel be our dream, 

If we pour this clay-cup dry 
In our matrix of deeds, a star shall be cast — 

A star to be set in the sky — 
And its light shall be fed by the oil of our souls 

Exhaustless as ether; and we, 
In the glow of the star, shall outgrow what we are 

And conquer mortality. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 17 



LURES 

Across my pilgrim path one day 

A gladsome golden shower 
Of transient sunlight came to play 

And while away the hour. 

"Oh, stay!" my soul in gladness cried, 
"So far thy feet have trod!"— 

A Voice in low reproach replied: 
"And make the world thy god?" 



18 THE FOURTH V/ATCH 



MY SOUL 

What is my soul? The sages say 

A thousand different things: 
I know it came by the rainbow- way 

Flashing its rainbow wings. 

What is my soul? I can not know 

All of the essence of me: 
I merely feel the currents flow 

In from a tideless sea. 

What is my soul? Perhaps a song 
When the galaxies were young 

That the earth-star caught from an angel 
throng 
When the praise of God was sung. 

What is my soul? Immortal Youth 

Swayed by a magic rod: 
An atom in the sphere of truth 

That tips the wand of God, 



THE FOURTH WATCH 19 



THE ORBIT OF DESIRE 

Across the waves of may-be 

My swift desires flee : 
They tread with magic sandals 

Imagination's sea. 

What need of ships to carry? 

What need of chart or sign? 
What need of log and compass? 

Of latitude or line? 

They travel God-directed; 

No resting place they know 
Save that from which they travel, 

The port from which they go. 

But o'er the waves of may-be 
The distant siren sings: 

Away again they wander, 
On venture-seeking wings, 

Till all the soul's horizon 
Is touched with magic jQre 

And round the seas of fancy 
Flames the orbit of desire. 



20 THE FOURTH WATCH 



MOON TRYST 

The moon came out of the east 

TraiHng her silver gown 
Through the dust of dawn-stained clouds 

Violet-gray and brown. 

Her blush was as deep as the rose 
In the sun-kissed cheeks of May — 

Could it be that the morning star 
Looked in on her tryst with day? 



THE FOURTH WATCH 21 



MY STARS 

An angel slept beneath my roses 
And breathed her beauty's spell : 

An angel slept beneath my roses 
The night the petals fell. 

Snowy-white upon her tresses 

They slowly settled down 
And lay like soft and clinging kisses 

— A rose-spun velvet crown! 

She woke to meet the smile of Morning 

And left my garden bare — 
But the saintly sweetness of the roses 

Is still upon the air. 

She passed through mystic glow and gloaming 
And was crowned with a crown of light: 

Across the floor of heaven drifted 
The gleaming petals white. 

So now the sky with soul-strewn roses 

All beautified I see, 
For since an angel blessed my garden 

The white stars shine for me. 



22 THE FOURTH WATCH 



DUSK-WINDS 

Softly the night winds pass 
That trail in the wake of day 

And breathe to the shadowy grass 
Still Evening's lay. 

Dusk-things quiver and pant 
In the hush of twilight dim, 

Athrill at the vibrant chant 
Of the vesper hymn. 

Dreamily, quietly drops 

The bodiless form of the breeze 
Through the murmuring, swaying tops 

Of worshipping trees. 

Down in the valley deep 
The willows, weeping, bend. 

And, sighing, are soothed to sleep 
On the breast of the wind. 



Benedictions rest 

On dusk-red roses fair 
With perfumed lips caressed 

By the ghosts of air. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 23 

Deepens the dusk and pales 

The last faint western ray, 
As the whispering night wind trails 

In the wake of day. 



24 THE FOURTH WATCH 



CLOUD FANTASIES 

Wonder-eyed I view 

The moving, melting mass 
As across a field of blue 

The cloud-creations pass; 
Cloud-shapes form and fade 

And throng in changing crowds: 
My mammoth, miracle-made 

Menagerie of clouds. 

Over the rim of the sky, 

With wings spread out and out 
Great white eagles fly. 

And their pinions curve about, 
Till the soaring cloud-shape breaks 

And slowly drifts in two, 
And one a camel makes 

And one a kangaroo. 

But ere one wonder's born 

The masses change again: 
The camel boasts a horn. 

The kangaroo a fin. 
Then tigers, horses, whales. 

Come floating on apace; 
As one creation pales 

Another takes its place. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 25 

Across the circus ring 

Of the zephyr-dusted sky 
In proud parade they swing — 

Those cloud-shapes — while I lie 
In showers of summer shade 

A-hiding from the sun, 
And watch the cloud-parade 

And count them one by one. 



At early morn or night 

You see the prison beirs, 
Like golden ribs of light. 

Through which the sun and stars 
Peer, wonder-bound, to see 

On fields of trodden blue 
My cloud menagerie. 

My sky-imprisoned zoo. 



26 THE FOURTH WATCH 



DUSK AND DAWN 



A crimson flow in the western sky 

From the death- wound of the day 

And shafts of Hght hke sword-blades bright 

Thrust fiercely through by the hand of night, 

As slow on the low horizon gray 

The day sinks down to die! 



But the grave-pit made for the dying day 
When the pall of the dusk came down 
And over the prostrate evening lay, 
Contains not always its vanquished prey: 
Though, grim, for a time the night holds sway, 
New time shall the eastern morning crown 
With dawn's reviving ray. 



So sinks the soul thi'ough the night of doubt 

When the light of a flaming sun 

Withers the nested creeds of our heart, 

When the dusk- winds blow from an unknown mart 

And hurricane-tumble our theories apart, 

When the day of dull credence is darkened and done 

And the Hght of tradition gone out. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 27 

And so wanes the night when the day is gone 

In the heart-sore, hungry soul. 

Though the ether of doubt dull the sense of the mind, 

Though the wings of the spirit the fear-shadows bind,' 

That sun-seeking atom of lost human kind 

Shall discover an East where, marking the goal, 

Truth flames in renascent dawn. 



28 THE FOURTH WATCH 



A WALK IN THE SPRING RAIN 

It rains ; and the world is living : 

Nature is buoyant and strong: 
Like the thrill that is felt from giving, 

Or the throb of a soul-glowing song, 
Is the joy-fraught flood that rushes 

Into each thirsting vein 
And mantles my cheek in blushes 

Soft-kissed by the cooling rain. 

To walk in the vernal shower 

Through the water-wet weeds of the mead, 
That are left from last year's dower 

To cover the waiting seed — 
To feel in my face the renewing 

Of the patter of pouring rain 
Is joy of Nature's brewing. 

It is pleasure purged of pain. 

With wide-open arms my spirit 

Embraces life's joys anew 
And drinks of the happiness near it 

Like a bee of its honey-dew. 
The coolness of raindrops clinging 

Conquers the thoughts of strife 
And a Voice in my heart is singing, 

"You — you are the Raindrop of Life." 



THE FOURTH WATCH z9 



A SONG OF THE ROAD 

I'm the royal tramp of springtime, 
And to boast I've ample reason, 

For it's springtime, wingtime, kingtime: 
It's the migratory season. 

I'm the care-free king of the gravel, 
For the world is at my feet ; 

Come travel the ways I travel, 
And feel earth's pulses beat. 

In the moonlit noon of a June night 

I glean my hoard of riches 
From a silver mine of moonlight 

Thronged by a thousand witches. 

I am one with the wind and weather: 
In this college of Stars-and-Dew 

The fee I pay is the leather 
I wear from the sole of my shoe. 



30 THE FOURTH WATCH 



I am king of the growing season, 
My palace, the world I roam ; 

And work is the only treason, 
A road my only home. 

I'm the royal tramp of springtime, 
And to roam I've ample reason: 

It's Nature's wandering-wing time, 
Her migratory season. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 31 



ROMANTIC YOUTH 

Living through the wear of winters, 

Dancing daily in our dreams, 
Like the sunlight soft and silent 

Silvering the sluggish streams, 
Is the fairy touch of fancy 

Folded in a maiden's hair. 
And the picture left unpainted 

Of the fairest of the fair. 

'Tis the glint of raven blackness 

Or the sunlit hair of gold. 
That revives the glow romantic 

Of a story never told ; 
While the dreamy blue of heaven, 

Or the black of midnight skies 
Starts the ghost of recollection 

Where our morning fancy lies. 

the romance of our morning, 

When our learning fancies rove 
And the spirit seeks its kindred, 

Yielding to the touch of love! 
Then, perhaps, a voice in tremor, 

In the days when hearts are young, 
Sets athrill the chords of music 

That shall ever be unsung. 



32 THE FOURTH WATCH 

Though the picture be unpainted, 

Never can the colors fade; 
Though the tale was unrelated, 

Something of the story stayed; 
And the song unsung is singing 

Of a maiden, more than fair. 
Who, to shrive our souls and save us, 

Set the star of Beauty there. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 33 



THE MEMORY OF A NIGHT IN YOUTH 

The night bird uttered a far-off cry 

And the sound sank down through the forest bare; 
O'er the towering tops of the Kstening trees 

It melted away in the vibrant air ; 
And the spreading darkness, deep and still, 

Seemed all at once the more intense, 
While the quivering starlight over the hill 

Was the breath of a new and a strange incense. 

By the side of the wood ran a little brook. 

And the tall grass stood in a happy dream 
As (listening soft to the brooklet's laugh) 

It was kissed to sleep by the amorous stream. 
The fragrant meadow, wide and still, 

To the lightest touch of the night-air bent, 
And, whispering low, its secrets told 

To the wooing breeze as it came and went. 

Its secrets were told to the evening air, 

Caressingly breathed to the hstening tree, 
And Nature, willing her secrets to share. 

Whispered them softly again to me. 
And the trees' tall tops against the sky 

(The white stars jeweled their limbs with light) 
Stretched up like organ pipes, awry, 

For the soft-breathed symphony of Night. 



34 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE MOTH-MAN 

Along the crimson pleasure path he took his way ; 
And through the fatal fields of death his journey lay, 
Where mouldering heaps of corpses cold — corrupted 

clay- 
Reveal on faces deadly wan the crimson ray. 

On every side the fallen lie! The dying groans 
Unto the traveler's ears are borne — and muffled moans 
Of wretched pilgrims perishing. Instead of stones 
To mark the crimson course are piles of bleaching bones. 

But just ahead are gleaming hghts, like scarlet wines, 
That tempt the traveler where the Bauble brightest 

shines, 
And draw him like a filing in the magnet's lines 
Of force, — in spite of counsel wise, or warning signs. 

From brain to brainless after all is but a span. 
And passion runs today where eons since it ran. 
The dull, unbrained moth has, since the world began, 
Its own destruction wrought in flame — and so has man. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 35 



BLIGHT 

The flower that feels upon it 
The frost where the dew has been 

Has a chiil in its heart forever 
And is never the same again. 

The page, when its ivory whiteness 
Has been marred by the stroke of a pen 

With a stain that will cling forever, 
Can ne'er be the same again. 

And a soul, though as pure as the starlight, 
If dimmed by the shadow of sin, 

May forfeit its lustre forever 
And be never the same again. 



36 THE FOURTH WATCH 



FRANCIS JOSEPH 

"I am tired" were the emperor's last words. . . . 
In his hands he held the silver and pearl 
Rosary. . . . There was a leaden sky. 

— Vienna News Dispatch. 

"I am tired: 

The weight of empire bears my shoulders down ; 

The throne, the robe, the sceptre, and the crown 

Become a cross, 

Borne willingly, but wearily: 

And I am tired. 

"Austria, 

Three score and eight my years of empire are ; 

And through those years thy name hath been my star, 

Thy grief my tears, 

Thy wounds the wounds of me, 

Austria! 

"Weary years, 

And prayers, and toils, that end in empire's woe! 
Is this the goal toward which all nations grow? 
With many fears 

1 view the leaden sky and mourn 
My weary years. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 37 

"Not in vain, — 

Not all in vain the pearl and silver beads, 

Not wholly lost my love-inspked deeds; 

Though battle frown 

And hide the sunset glory now, — 

Tis not in vain. 

"I am tired: 

My eyes are tired of seeing — tired of sight ; 

My soul is tired of sceptres — tired of might. 

Death lifts the crown: 

I close my eyes — to rest — to rest, 

For I am tired." 



38 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE KINGLY WAY 

(Suggested by the foreword of Chapter H in "The 
Quest of Happiness," by Newell D wight Hillis.) 



The king in troubled dreams one night 
And worn with restlessness 

Held converse with the Angel bright 
Of Pleasure and Success. 



"I'll bring rich gifts unto thy son," 

The smiling angel said, 
"And ere his princely race is run 

Success shall crown his head." 



The king, whose reign was good and kind, 
One question much did brood : 

'Twas for the prince he bore in mind 
Such deep solicitude. 



"A goodly son," he told himself; 

Though so he was indeed. 
The king had fears lest royal pelf 

Should turn his thoughts to greed. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 39 

For when from monarchs' minds and hearts 

The sense of duty strays, 
No pomp that selfishness imparts 

Can win a people's praise. 

And so in fear the king had said, 

"A goodly son he seems," 
And tossing, troubled, on his bed, 

He dreamed these two strange dreams : 

Unto the king the angel told 

Her promise in his sleep : 
"Give me thy son and earth shall hold 

No cause to make him weep. 

"In him Success her king shall meet, 

And I will crush him wine 
From purple vines of pleasure sweet 

That o'er his door shall twine. 

"The path he treads with me shall be 

A kingly path indeed, 
A path where he shall never see 

The shadow of a need. 

"While friends unnumbered bow the knee 

And shout his princely fame, 
Shall every martial foeman flee 

And tremble at his name. 



40 THE FOURTH WATCH 

"Their fruits shall wealth and fame combine, 

And mine shall be the deed 
His stately coffers deep to line 

With glory's golden meed. 

"To him shall courts of ease belong 
Through which shall hourly ring 

The sweetest strains of Pleasure's song. 
Give me thy son, King!" 

The angel spoke her promise fair; 

The monarch's brow was clear : 
If Fortune's robes the prince should wear, 

What further need of fear.^ 

Of glory, honor, fame, success. 

Did not the angel speak? 
If these his princely lot should bless. 

What more remained to seek.^^ 

If Pleasure and Success would guide 

The prince upon his way, 
And no ill fortune could abide 

The issue of a day, 

'Twere well her presence to invoke 

And prove her promise true — 
But ere reply he made he woke — 

Then slept to dream anew. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 41 

But like a wizard's magic ring 

Our visions mould and melt: 
And now in tears before the king, 

The Angel, Sorrow, knelt. 

In sombre robes and simply wrought, 

With modest head inclined, 
She rose and stood Hke one who sought 

The Peri's boon to find. 

"I, too, an angel am, King." 

She raised her tender eyes. 
" Give me thy son and I shall bring 

Him truth instead of hes," 

Through tears a smile of kindness gleamed 

Like Eden in her face; 
And the monarch muttered, as he dreamed, 

A half-forgotten grace. 

"Vain Pleasure offers wealth and fame: 

To live by such as these 
Is making selfishness your aim 

And idleness your ease. 

"Where Pleasure promises success, 

I promise patient toil— 
For humble labors always bless, 

While riches often soil. 



42 THE FOURTH WATCH 

"I'll touch his heart with bitter pains 

And give him tears to shed; 
I'll turn to dross the gold he gains 

And make him want for bread. 

"Yea, more than this the prince shall learn, 

Ere I my task have done: 
His dearest friends to foes I'll turn — 

Because I love thy son. 

"Affliction's wine for him shall flow: 
The prince must sorrow share, 

That he another's grief may know, 
Another's burden bear. 

"Let not ambition deign to think 

No starless nights to know : 
The kings of men are those who drink 

Another's cup of woe. 

"Then give thy son, King, to me, 

For I am Sorrow's sprite; 
A burden-bearer he shall be 

The people's wrongs to right." 

The king spoke out: "The truth you say 

Is truth of God above ; 
Teach thou my son the kingly way 

To win a people's love." 



THE FOURTH WATCH 43 



"HOMEWARD BOUND" 

From smiling, nodding wayside flower, 
Or beating rhythm of the shower, 
The racing pulse imbibes new power 
And shouts the fast approaching hour 
When you'll be "Homeward bound!" 

The hills and valleys talk to you; 
Invoke the sky of gray or blue; 
Consult the stars, the dusk, the dew: 
They all in unison renew 
The chant of "Homeward bound!" 

"Homeward, homeward, homeward bound!" 
Nowhere else such joy is found 
That binds the beating heart around 
As that when fancy forms the sound, 
"Homeward, homewai^d bound!" 



THE FOURTH WATCH 



HOME FROM THE CITY STREETS 

I hear all day the thud of feet 
That walk the busy city street 
And carry surging through the heat 
A human tide. 



Those stately buildings, Argus-eyed, 
Watch above the surging tide 
And Une that course of commerce wide, — 
The city street. 

I feel the great world's pulses beat 
As traffic rolls from street to street; 
I feel the truth, the rank deceit, 
And all the wrong 

That moves within that human throng 
Which goes with eager steps along 
And kills the weak to crown the strong 
With praise unmeet. 

Here thousands may with thousands meet, 
Nor one of all the number greet: 
Alone and in myself complete, 
I go my way. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 45 

When evening marks the close of day, 
How sweet to take the homeward way 
While whirring car- wheels faintly play 
My homing dreams ! 

And every field that fleeting gleams 
A new-born breath of nature seems 
And nearer marks my land of dreams — ■ 
The Land of Home. 

'Tis part of life to cease to roam ; 
'Tis healing for the heart to come 
Back from the strife and struggle, home — 
Home from the city streets. 



46 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THREE LIGHTS 

Out of my window I look and sigh, 
When the twihght shadows glow, 
Watching the Hghts of the night so nigh 
That burn in the town below, — 

Watching the glimmering glow of the lights, 
Like spear points glancing down 

Against the sable college heights 
That rise beyond the town. 

And look! Like triple starbeams bright, 
Where the sky-dark shadows flow, 

Against the blackened scroll of night 
Three Lights — that gleam in a row! 

Lights — three hghts that gleam in a row 

From the hilltop's lonely crest. 
Like stars of love through the dusk of woe 

Or memories, soul-caressed. 

Three! and together — shining — ^bright! 

Redeeming the evening gloam! 
My heart, like the night, shall be flooded 
with light 
When Sweetheart and Baby are home. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 47 



BABY WISDOM 

Baby dear, tell me true : 

Would you laugh and kick and coo, 

Would you dimple as you do 

If you knew 
What the world we've brought you to 
Would in its turn bring to you? 

Would you — if you knew, 
Baby dear? 

In your baby eyes of blue 

Thousand fairy fancies throng, 
Fancies old as they are new, 
Fancies strange but fancies true, 
That to babyhood belong. 

Maybe ghosts of bygone dreams 
Hover in those mystic springs 
Where the life-light softly gleams 
Like a drop from Lethean streams 
Ere forgetfulness it brings. 

In your baby eyes of blue 
Age-old mists and shadows glow, 

Shrouding deep that wisdom true, 

Wisdom old as it is new, 

Like the rosebuds ere they blow. 



48 THE FOURTH WATCH 

Baby dear, whisper low 

While you laugh and dimple so: 

Tell me if you truly know 

All the woe 
That may meet you as you go 
Through this world of shine and snow. 

Do you — ^^do you know, 
Baby dear? 



THE FOURTH WATCH 49 



IF I WERE A FLOWER 

I 

Purple 

If I were a flower, the purple of power 

My chosen hue should be, 
And, though tiny and small, I should publish to all 

My floral majesty, 

That people might know as they go to and fro 

In search of the thing of worth 
That the power of the great is of humble estate 

And springs from the bosom of earth. 

I should joy to know that, in purple aglow, 

The hearts of men I should probe 
With a thought that would bide long after had died 

The hues of my royal robe. 

II 

White 

If the dust of the tomb should climb into bloom 

After mouldering ages of night, 
The petals, I hope, o'er my grave, when they ope, 

May be spotless— and stainlessly white. 



50 THE FOURTH WATCH 

Whate'er it may be that shall bloom over me— 

Whether violet, lily, or rose — 
Through purity's eye I shall smile at the sky 

When the tender, white petals unclose. 

And of purity sweet the truth I'll repeat 

Each day to the passer-by 
As, with consummate grace, I stand, with my face 

Turned up to the laughing sky. 



HI 

Gold 

If I were a flower, I should choose me a dower 

From the gold of the sundown's blaze 
And bathe all my buds in the shining fire-floods 

Of the noonday's molten rays. 

Then to those who behold my garment of gold 

Should this lesson of life be taught: 
That the thing of most worth in this treasure-mad earth 

Is a treasure that cannot be bought. 

For my gold-circled eyes that look up to the skies 
Drew their wealth from the golden sun : 

And Heaven lets fall her treasure on all 
Who look upward when labor is done. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 51 

IV 

Blue 

Sweet flower by the way, I should earnestly pray 

(If I could change places with you) 
That the sky might descend and over me bend 

And paint me a beautiful blue. 

And then I should say, as I smiled by the way, 

To all of the passers-by : 
"I have nothing to fear in dwelling down here, 

For my heart has been touched by the sky. 

"And so, in the span of the life of a man, 

In meeting the problem of sin, 
There's never a harm that can give you alarm 

If you and the heavens are kin." 



52 THE FOURTH WATCH 



LOVE'S MEMORY 

I dreamed that I held in my hand 

A flower of briUiant hue, 
And I watched its petals expand 

Beautiful, strange, and new. 

It stood for a moment, displayed 
Like a queen in her rich array. 

When its petals began to fade 
And slowly to drop away. 

The withering stem was then 

Of its beauty quite bereft, 
And at last where the flower had been 

But an atom of dust was left. 

But hanging upon the air, 

When the flower had faded and gone, 
Was a perfume sweet and rare 

That thriUed like the breath of dawn. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 53 



DREAM-SONG 

Every drop of morning dew 

Is Nature's magic £u:t 
And shrines for every lover true 

The mistress of his heart. 

Noonday's brightest skies of blue 
That arch the heavens above 

Are pale beside the gorgeous hue 
Of rainbow skies of love. 

Every sunset flashing through, 
The thoughts of you arise, 

And silent night but brings to view 
The stars that hght your eyes. 

Morning, noon, and night renew 
Love's dreams of joy — unknown: 

My dreams of Hfe are dreams of you- 
Dreams, but dreams alone I 



54 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE SONG OF THE AVERAGE MAN 

I sing not the hymn of the plutocrat 

Nor drone the chant of the slave; 
I do not recite any ballad of might 

Nor the battle-song of the brave ; 
I sing not the ways of the One Great One — 

Let sages interpret, who can, 
The voice of the Lord. Be it mine to record 

The song of the average man : 

"I hear you have called me the king of the earth- 

A kingship established of old — 
But I very well see that my royalty 

Has been stripped of its purple and gold. 
So the dignified title but adds to my woe 

And serves my discomfort to fan: 
Can a meaningless name, a spectre-like flame, 

Cheer the lot of the average man? 

"A spectre-like flame! By its light I can see 

Myself as the spectre-king : 
My torn, faded robe is the garment of Job, 

The mantle of suffering ! 
For my kingdom is woe, and sorrow, and pain — 

'Tis a part of the Infinite Plan — 
So behold, all alone, on an ash-heap throne, 

His Highness, The Average Man! 



THE FOURTH WATCH 55 

"My burdens I bear and my kingship is sure. 

My theories of life are concrete: 
If I but give heed to my imminent need, 

My circle of hfe is complete. 
What dealings have I with the Doctrines of Things.^ 

New theories I scruple to scan. 
So onward I plod toward a parent-proved God, 

For — I am the average man." 



56 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE SPIRIT OF MUSIC 

Oh, I am the Spirit of Music, 

The child of the swinging s'pheres ! 
I was bathed in the light of a vision 

Encircling the cradle of years. 
My win^s are of downy feather, 

They were smoothed by the Angel of Dreams 
As I slept by the pools of pleasure 

That are fed by the Lethean streams. 

I garnered the sweeping lashes 

I wear from an errant star, 
And the glances that gleam from beneath them 

The shining Apollo's are, 
For I came through the dome of the heavens 

Ere my journey to earth was run 
And into the heart of my being 

Came the magnetic force of the sun. 

Yes, I am the Spirit of Music ; 

I throb with the pulse of the world ; 
I dwell on the mountains of morning, 

Or in palaces lachryma-pearled. 
I am old as the tottering ages, 

Eternal as star and sun, 
And my voice shall bring order from chaos 

When the march of the planets is done. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 57 



THE STORM-KING 

Out of the regions of nowhere, 

Out of the caves of storm, 
Glides with the speed of a spectre 

A fast-flying, phantom-hke form; 
Mounting the steeds of the whirlwind. 

And pointing the hurricane's lance, 
He races abreast with the tempest 

Or spins the tornado dance. 

the wreckage wrought by the Storm-king! 

He moves in a thousand shapes: 
He whirls the sands of the desert, 

Or tumbles the sea at the capes— 
For the phantom-hke form of the Storm-king 

May one or a miUion be, 
And the hosts that sweep the mainland 

Are the same that lash the sea. 

Over the fields of winter 

The Storm-king's spectres fare, 
And the traveler turns in terror 

At the touch of their barbed hair; 
And the blasts that are breathed from the nostrils 

Of the Storm-king's steeds as they pass 
Cut keen as the blades of battle 

Or pierce like the points of glass. 



58 THE FOURTH WATCH 

Over the summer harvest 

Hastens the heralding wind 
And the giant boughs of the forest 

Like flame before it bend; 
And the cloud-imprisoned thunder 

That sits in the Storm-king's hand 
Is lost in the rush of the torrent 

That drenches a thirsting land. 

Forth to the regions of nowhere 

Passes the phantom form, 
Fanning the face of the tempest, 

Bulging the cheeks of the storm, 
Till across the dome of the heavens 

Is beaten the iris path 
And the Storm-king gallops under 

The arch of his passing wrath. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 59 



SKY-PICTURES 

Star-gathering Morn 

To whose rich vestments cling 

The flaming fingers of the day 

Is here, 

And, as from hidden mere 

Of trembhng, Hquid light. 

Doth leap to sight 

Of the watching eye, 

An elf-like sprite, 

In roses dight 

Dripping with crimson dew, — 

So, forth from the brightening eyes of Morn, 

Athwart the star-bare sky 

In whose far corners lie 

Night's waning ghosts of gray, 

Flash the dancing fire-sprites of the day 

Wrapped in rosebud hue, 

And blush the paling shadows, torn, 

Into beds of gold and blue. 



But more than Morn, in truth, 

I saw in the sky of the young, new day : 

I beheld glad, glorious, gay, 
Star-gathering youth. 



60 THE FOURTH WATCH 

The zenith hour, 

Before whose glare the shadows crouch, 

Has come. Day rules at heaven's height 

Upon his azure couch 

Of burnished steel ; 

And fields and flowers feel 

The fierce, compelling might 

Of the impassioned King of Light, 

Whose warm, intense caresses burn 

The upturned hps of Earth, 

And Earth's responding children turn 

To the source of their sun-filled mirth. 



But more than the zenith hour 
I read in the blazing noonday sky : 
Manhood's might, mature — and I sigh 

For full-blown power. 



Star-crowned eve. 

From whose soft dusk the shadows weave 

A purple robe of majesty 

And drape it fold on fold 

About the dying day, 

Sits in the western sky 

Upon a sunset throne of gold, — 

King of the riches there that lie 

In the palace of Day, grown old, — 

Riches of wisdom garnered from Time, 



THE FOURTH WATCH 61 

Riches of sundown's glory sublime, 
Riches that never die, 
That live again in the star-hung sky, 
The crown of the even-time. 



And gracing the vanishing page 
Of day with sunset colors rife, 
Lo! Throned on the riches of life, 

Star-crownld age! 



62 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE CONQUEST OF THE SEA 

The waters of earth, how mighty and great, 

That lie earth's sea-beds in 
And rage with the winds, or when tempests abate 
Lie calm in the deeps that isolate 

The wave-washed homes of men! 

On the heaving breast of ocean wide 

The rocking billows sleep 
Till out of the wastes where the storms abide 
In the track of the fearless tempest ride 

The raging powers of the deep. 

And many a fearful deed hath been 

By the sea king's mighty host 
In ravage wrought on the sons of men 
Who braved the roaring tempest's din 

With futile and fatal boast. 

O the dream of conquest-loving man 

Is a dream of victory ! 
Since first the dawn of days began 
His daring dream has been to span 

The watery gap of the sea. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 63 

To master, to conquer, command, subdue, 

To gain imperial sway 
Is the spring of our dreams and the deeds we do, 
Is the secret of life that the poets knew 

And the bards of the olden day. 

When first in hollowed trunk did float 

(Or hulk of bounden staves) 
A half-clad man whose savage throat 
Proclaimed his new dug-out a boat, 

'Twas a victory o'er the waves. 

And then his seaward course to bend 

He taught himself to form 
The huge ship-mast whose sail-hung end 
Caught up and harnessed the very wind 

That lashed the sea to storm. 

But now the Titan vessels rich. 

With steel-plate, armored side, 
Round which the foam-capped billows pitch, 
Convert the element in which 

They, sea-defying, ride 

To mighty motor power that drives 

The coursing, countless scores 
Of ocean-daring human hives 
Thronged with the freight of a thousand lives 

Ship-bound for distant shores. 



64 THE FOURTH WATCH 

So the mind of man and the strength of steam 

Have blazed an ocean path. 
But that was never the end of the dream : 
There were sea-drowned lands in the north to redeem 

From the ravaging ocean's wrath. 

The dream of dominion is never complete : 

Like a will-o'-the-wisp, its gleam, 
Forever advancing, outraces the feet; 
Although the deed and the dream never meet, 

There is joy in pursuit of the dream. 

The countless wrecks upon the deep. 

The sea-god's angry deed. 
Lay fathom-locked in watery sleep, 
And the arms of ocean strove to keep 

Her stolen fruits of greed. 

But the armored diver sounds the main, 

And ocean's treasury 
Conceals her hidden stores in vain,— - 
And in the deeps doth man remain 

The master of the sea. 

At last across the basin wide, 

Drawn through the slime and mire, 
Beneath the moon-enamoured tide. 
Through phosphorous caves where the drowned abide, 

Is the coast-connecting wire. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 65 

Of all achievements that have been, 

The cable-message wrought 
The greatest victory for men 
When weeks were clipped to seconds in 

The passage of a thought. 

And then the dreaded war-machine 

That habits with the sharks 
Plies its course the coasts between: 
And the transatlantic submarine 

A new achievement marks. 

New goals the questing mind attains 

But the quest is never done; 
To-day above the ocean lanes 
Like sea-birds race the aeroplanes 

In a winged Marathon. 

We cannot know in our wisdom's dearth 

The things that are yet to be, — 
But, to whatever wonders the future gives birth, 
To-day down the ocean-filled hollows of earth 

Comes the cry of a conquered sea. 

And so through the years we cannot behold, 

Through the centuries yet to run, 
Man's mind shall accomplish, his dreams shall 

unfold, — 
And to distant descendants the story be told 

Of victories yet to be won. 



66 THE FOURTH WATCH 



WILL-O'-THE-WISP 

Will-o'-the-wisp, thy winding way ! 

Take it, thou elf of deceitful day! 

For why not believe that night is morn? 

Why not believe thee a star of light 

Come down to earth to guide us aright? 

If life has proved bare, 

If its kingdom is care, 

And the sun has gone down on the fruitful and fair, 

why not believe that night is morn? 

why not be sure 

In thy fanciful lure 

That the thistle's a rose — instead of a thorn! 



Will-p'-the-wisp ! Will-o'-the-wisp ! 

Down through the ages of fog and of mist 

Thy fairy lights glimmer, 

Now brighter, now dimmer, 

And over men's souls thou has cast a faint shimmer 

Of roseate light 

That has tricked them to thinking 

That help is at hand when they know they are sinking- 

And that night is star-bright 

When it's leaden! 

0, the ears that re-list 

And the fires that re-redden 



THE FOURTH WATCH 67 

As thy light is shot down through the ages of mist! 
the empty star-dust left on the hps that thou hast 
kissed! 

But why not pursue, though never attain? 

Why calmly abide in the deserts of life 

And in deserts forever remain? 

will-o'-the-wisp, thy winding way ! 

Take it, thou elf of deceitful day! 

For what can enhven the hope to attain, 

Rekindle the fire 

. . Inspire the desire .... 

.... To reach to a higher . . . 

And lovelier plane, 

But the roseate hght of beauty uncaught 

And the romance glamor of battles unfought — 

But the thought that there's something to gain 

At the crest of the next high hill? 

So why not invite 

The night-light bright , 

Though the gleam be false that it lends, 

And climb to a height 

With roses dight 

Though they fade at the touch of the winds? 

will-o'-the-wisp, lead on at thy will, 

Thou elf of deceitful day I 

Lead on and lead on, 

Though thou come to no dawn 

And the darkness pales never to gray; 



68 THE FOURTH WATCH 

Lead on and make bright 

The path of our night 

And play us the pranks you may, 

For men will at sight 

Follow visions of light — 

Though it be by a winding way! 



THE FOURTH WATCH 69 



HOUSE-AWAKENING 

(On taking an early morning walk through the 
residence streets of a city and watching the houses 
respond to the growing and gradual brightness of a 
new day.) 

The city street is a streak of dawn, 

A stream of melting light 
Dissolving into silver-gray 

The sediment of night. 

The houses on their terrace-beds 

Drowse in dreaming rows 
And greet the morn with heavy eyes 

Curtained in repose. 

They rouse to life at sound of feet 

Breaking the restful dawn ; 
And lazily each porch-mouthed house 

Wakes with a sleepy yawn. 

They doff their gray night-caps of fog 

(That evening mist has spun) 
And bathe their faces dripping-bright 

In the rain of level sun. 



70 THE FOURTH WATCH 



A DOWNTOWN ALLEY 

This dingy, high-walled alley, 
This gorge-like sunken valley, 

Down which at noontime only steals the sun, 
Is not a thing of beauty: 
It is shadowy and sooty 

And is rather commonplace, as alleys run. 

Always straight and long and smoky, 
Through an atmosphere that's choky. 

Like the grimy path of sloth the alley crawls, 
Through lengths of tangled wiring 
And refuse uninspiring. 

Till into one the distance blends its walls. 



But I work and watch above it 
And I learn to know and love it, 

For I like its back-door type of honesty ; 
And I have a kind of feeling 
That the alley is revealing 

What eyes, unglassed, prose-focused, may not see. 

Here I gain the city's greeting; 
Here I sense its true heart-beating 
As I watch each intersecting avenue: 



THE FOURTH WATCH 71 

I can see the traffic going, 
Feel the rhythm of its flowing, 
Where a dozen channels cross my walled-in view. 

Vivisectionists seraphic, 

As they sought the heart of traffic, 

Have cut with shaip, thin blade, keen-edged as air, 
And this muscle-deep incision 
To their secret-seeking vision 

Has a dozen throbbing arteries laid bare. 

No, it's not a thing of beauty; 
It is shadowy and sooty, 

And it's just as commonplace as it can be; 
But Fve worked and watched above it 
Till Fve learned to know and love it, 

For I like its back-door type of honesty. 



72 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE STREET CAR 

Every night 

I watch the street=car 

Out of sight, 

As it crawls along 

Like a worm of light 

And grumbles its song 

To the curbstones white; 

And the trolley spar 

Like a floating star 

Or meteor bright 

Dangles above its noisy flight. 

Moments fleet 

Dreamily by; 

Drowsily sweet 

The minutes fly, 

While quietly I 

With half-closed eye 

Watch the car 

Go up the street; 

And I hear its rattling pulses beat, 

Till the whirring song 

Of the motors strong 

Begins to die 

In the distance far. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 73 

Then I watch the mouth of a chimney nigh 

Towering high 

Against the sky 

As it gapes for a smoky star. 



74 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE CITY COSMIC 

This morning 

The lure of the street 

Entangled my feet 

And I walked . . . and walked . . . and walked . . . 

I turned into the narrowest streets, I breathed the 
smoke of the factories, I smelled the reek and 
rot of the tenements ; 

I passed by ancient spacious lawns and piles of masonry 
century-old, the pride of the city fathers; 

I walked through parks and down the singing boule- 
vards. . , . 

And I discovered what a cosmic thing a city is. 

Dirt. ... 

Congestion. . . . 

A heap of rubbish. . . . 

Blocks and stones and buildings ; 

White granitoid, smoked gray, like second^day collars 

of respectability ; 
Whistle-topped, grim-eyed factories ; 
The air, heavy with the aroma of coal-tar gas and 

the packing-house; 
A network of wires and rails ; 
Bill-boards, the sign of the dollar ; 



THE FOURTH WATCH 75 

Squares of artificial landscape called parks and gardens; 
A sea of roofs and chimneys. . . . 
Houses . . . and houses . . . and houses. . . . 
Time's driftwood packed together by the force of 

the tide! 
And that is the city: 
A huge mass of Material, 
Looped and bound by the oily-black ribbon of the 

boulevards green-selvedged in the spring. 

The people 

Are not the city. 

They infest the city, as rats and roaches the drift- 
wood left high on the bank, — 

Or they build the city, as a beaver builds its dam, bit 
by bit. 

Yet, the people and the city are very much alike. 

They are like two mirrors, each reflecting the other, 

For those who do not make the city are made by the 
city. 

At dusk 

The smoky-bright, 
Soft-calling night 

Led me again through streets . . . and streets . . . 
and streets. ... 

I mingled with late-shopping crowds, I rubbed against 
the clay-crusted garments of laborers, I watched 
the rush for chnging-space on a Main Street car; 



76 THE FOURTH WATCH 

I heard the drone of the beggar in the doorway with his 
pencils and shoestrings, I met women in brilHant 
coats — with painted cheeks ghost-white, I caught 
the innocent laugh of whirling youth from a 
flashing car; 

T noted the unblinking eyes of the hypnotized throng 
of cinema- worshippers pouring in and out past the 
shrieking posters flaming red and yellow; 

I listened to the incessant colloquy of the city's vic- 
tims and creators rising like the shrill hum of a 
steel-cutting wheel; 

\ passed into the quieter and poorer streets and saw 
the ill-clad mothers of children, born and unborn, 
taking the early spring air of a front doorstep 
overlooking the pavement, and as I passed they 
looked at me with eyes unf earing and curious; 

I glimpsed half-way down a dim deserted street a 
figure that slunk, thief-like, into the mouth of 
an alley; 

I walked upon the boulevard and saw through the 
windows of the rich the luxury of wealth; 

I turned into the park — and there was love, twin- 
souled, ecstatic, gripping with twining fingers the 
edge of Passion; 



THE FOURTH WATCH 77 

And I sat upon a smooth-worn bench and gazed with 
new understanding at the evening star. . . . 

And I thought what a cosmic thing the population of 
a city is. 

Souls. . . . 

Souls that harbor ignorance and are cramped in the 
cage their ignorance has built; 

Helpless souls, 

That sit on doorsteps and breathe the smell of refuse ; 

Dust-dwelling souls, 

Whose wings have atrophied; 

Striving, struggling, suffering souls, 

Toiling in the net; 

Strong, soaring souls, 

That seek the sunlight in the open ; 

Souls that murmur, and tired-eyed souls that are 
mute; 

Souls of youth, wild-flowered, tossing their wind- 
tangled hair! 

And that is the population of a city: 

Souls. . . . souls. . . . 

House-huddled souls. . . . 

Bound to the earth by soiled pink ropes of clay. . . . 

Bound by earth to earth .... 

Bound. . . . bound. ... 



78 THE FOURTH WATCH 



NIGHT-LESSONS 

I felt the handkerchief of Night — 

Whose name was Need — 

Bound, pain-tight, across my eyes. 

And its ends were wrought into such a knot as only 

circumstances can tie. 
And my fingers became nailless with the unceasing 

ejfforts to pluck off that blinding bandage of need. 
But in due time the night passed, the morning came : 
And I had learned to work. 

I heard the voluptuous night-sounds, the sounds of 

silence from the throat of darkness; 
I heard the harmony of stars ; 
And through the Night — 
Whose name was Sorrow — 
Stole softly the music of moonlight. 
The million- voiced melody of the heart: 
And I had learned to sing. 

Bare-bosomed Night — 

Whose name was Beauty — 

Her unloosed tresses caught in a tiara of stars, 

Stretched out her naked arms and smiled. . . . 

Potent with revelation . . . 

. . . The Morning Star raced up the road of dawn, 

But I had learned to love. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 79 

And when Night had taught me work and song and 

love, 
Behold! I found myself, like a fixed and glowing star, 

in the heart of another Night — 
Whose name was Life — 
For I had learned to live! 



80 THE FOURTH WATCH 



THE RACE PHANTOM 

Earth was sleeping under the silver-knotted coverlid 
of night stretched upon the Wyoming mountain- 
tops, 

When a silvery-shadowy phantom clothed in the 
breath of the stars 

Stalked to the quiet lakeside 

And, with arms outstretched like message-carrying 
cables toward the West, 

Said: 

"Yonder . . . yonder have they gone; 

But where does that west-path lead?" 

The pines inclined their heads, and the stars stooped 
down for the answer ; 

The smooth lake panted in Hstening silence. 

Then, with head flung back, the phantom lips breathed 
forth three sighs: 

"Into the Sunset! 

Into the Night! 

Into Death!" 

The waves rolled up and kissed the phantom's feet; 
The mountains with their breezes touched his brow; 
And Nature nodded a salute of welcome to the Ghost 

of the Aboriginal American. 
Then in the east loomed the blue shadow of dawn, 
Pouring a fusillade of fire against the mountain tops; 



THE FOURTH WATCH 81 

And with back-turned face the phantom fled 

Into the West . . . 

. . . Into the Night ... 

Out of sight. 

A ghost — the trembHng ghost of a vanquished nation 
Fleeing in terror before the irresistible approach of its 

enemy, 
The Fires of the East, 
The Light 
Of Civilization! 



82 THE FOURTH WATCH 



POLYPHEMUS 

Under the distant bridge that splices the horizon, 

Suddenly burns an eye of light: 

Over it rises a purple veil that blends into the coloring 

mists of morning : 
And the train slides slowly down the grade like a 

black, jewel-headed pencil erasing before it the 

stains of night. 

Then over the fulcrum-top of an eastern hill 
The Day pushes his fire-tipped lever 
To pry up the vale-clinging shadows that lie low- 
bedded against the earth; 
And then, 
Ulysses-like, 

He sears with his flaming spike 
The glaring Polyphemus-eye to a smoky blackness. 

With a scream of pain the train comes on, 

And groans to a sudden stop — 

A bUnd Cyclops of traffic clinging to the guiding rails. 



THE FOURTH WATCH 83 



TROPHAEA LUNA 

Green-and-blue 

And gorgeous-winged, 

It came to me — 

Out of a May night's spring-bright gloom, 

Out of the twilight into my room, 

A wonder new! 

And as if in quest 

Of mind-mined lore-gems bright, 

This winged drop of color-light 

Planed to a rest 

On a page smooth- white 

And shadowed the Hues I read. 

Out of the night gloom's 

Twihght gray, 

Like a delicate wing-petaled bloom 

Of May, 

To me it came. 

And I said, "I must know the name 

Of this wonder new. 

Of this green-and-blue and beautiful thing, 

Of this color-flame 

With the gorgeous wing." 

So I built a paper prison-house 
About my night-sent guest, 



84 THE FOURTH WATCH 

And it bruised its wings against the walls 

As I carried it down to the science halls 

In quest 

Of the Man Who Knew. 

And he replied: 

"Trophaea luna! Look, 

Here are its picture and name in a book." 

But I saw not the book with its pictures and things; 

I saw my moth with its ragged wings. 

"But it is— it is dead!" 

I cried. 

"Yes," he said, 

"It is Beauty — which you wanted classified." 




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